


Things Taught By Demons

by ffrindyddraig



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Spock, Demon McCoy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 12:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffrindyddraig/pseuds/ffrindyddraig
Summary: Spock tries to find out why everyone thought McCoy was the angel and he the demon.





	Things Taught By Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Going through my old notes pads and writing up all my old fics. This fic has a whole 'verse behind it that I will probably never get around to writing.  
> I just liked the thought of Spock being pissed that everyone thought he was a demon when actually he was an angel, and McCoy is a fail of a demon because he's too damn compassionate.  
> I own nothing. Seriously, if it's not from Trek, it's probably from the bible, though you probably can't copy right historic events?

From all his travels in space, there was few things Spock could not understand. The one that left him the most confused, the one he accounted on a weekly basis, was why everyone thought McCoy was the angel and he the demon.

He'd asked the doctor one day in sickbay, the man holding his ever present alcohol filled glass in his hand.

"It's those damn pointed ears, Spock," he'd answered, before asking the angel to grab a drink or leave a demon alone with his sin. Spock did neither.

"All Vulcan's have these ears." He pointed out. Spock was a nephilim, half angel, half Vulcan. A strange mix of warrior and pacifism. His father had claimed to take a mate would be logical, and his mother, all passion, had agreed. He had not spoken to his father since he left Vulcan to become the guardian of James T. Kirk. His mother would no doubt stop speaking to him if she knew how close he had become to the man's demon.

Their friendship had been built tentatively, neither wanting to make the first move due to prejudgement and personality clashes. Most of the hostility had been - and still was - from McCoy, an hatred he had towards Spock that seemed to be about more than simply species differences, though he never found out why. But, the years serving with each other, holding each other's lives in their hands, had formed a bond between them that, while not always friendly to each other, was unbreakable.

"Doesn't stop you looking like the Devil." McCoy drained his glass before pouring himself another. He had to drink large quantities of alcohol to become even slightly intoxicated. Romulan Ale, he explained one day, was the best. Said he wanted to see if it could get an angel drunk. Sometimes Spock thought the doctor was not sent to damn Kirk, but rather him.

"What do you suggest to remedy this?" McCoy raised an eyebrow and grinned, all sharp teeth. On another demon that would mean torture, but on this one it meant only teasing was about to ensue.  If Spock did not know of the man's true nature, he would doubt that the doctor was really from Hell - he held more compassion than most humans.

"Hurts your feelings does it?"

Spock thinned his lips. "Doctor, may I remind you, I do not have feelings."

McCoy snorted. "Yeah, and I don't have horns and a pointed tail." He did, in fact, have both. The horns, small and stubby, were hidden by his Starfleet standard hair cut, and his tail was hidden under his trousers, wrapped around his left leg. Too unhygienic to be left sticking out, not to mention it was not a hit with the ladies. The human ones anyway. "Just let your wings out. People will be calling you angel in no time."

Spock rose an eyebrow. "They make it hard to walk through doors."

McCoy's eyes lit up in amusement. "Good. It means you won't be able to get in here."

"Nor anywhere else on the ship." Even his quarters were too small to really let his wings out. If it was not for years of training in his room on Vulcan, he would of surely set his room on fire by knocking over his meditation candles with them.

"Keeping them cramped up under that harness isn't good for them." Spock held up a hand before McCoy could start a full blown rant about the state of his wings. He got enough of that in the physical. It was bad enough that the demon was the only one on the ship who knew how to groom them correctly - just the thought of a demon's hands running through something as personal as his wings made him shiver, but nobody else on board knew what to do. Alas, the only time he could exercise them was during planetary shore leave, the doctor often timing his laps to make sure nothing was wrong with them.

"You don't know how important they are until they've gone." McCoy muttered instead, eyes getting that far away look he took when thinking about his past.

As a small child he'd asked his mother where demon's came from, and she explained they were fallen angels. When he first saw the doctor's back he realised his mother had softened her words in a way no Vulcan would. Demon's had not so much fallen as been burned, ripped, _destroyed_. All left of their once beautiful wings just two deep, thick scars. He wondered what McCoy had done to deserve such a fate.

"Why, then, do you try to tempt me?" Alcohol, women, gluttony and lust. _My speciality_ he would grumble. To get Jim to drink and get with ladies, it was better than any other demon would whisper in his ear.

"It's my job." Demon's lie, and McCoy excelled at it. It was the job he was sent to do, but his other job, his role on the ship always came first. Sickbay more important than Hell. Jim himself more important than his sending the captain into a self destructing spiral. Hence the salad he insisted the man ate - of course, if one listened to Jim, they would think that was torture on its own. There was a word for demon's who love humanity : traitor. "And it's fun. You'll see that if you got that damn stick out your ass."

"Even if I was not an angel, I am a Vulcan."

McCoy took another sip of his drink. "I much preferred you during your Pon Farr."

Another lie. He had hated it as much as Spock had. One day the angel would find out why a demon carried drugs around at all times that faked death. Why there was demons like McCoy at all. Maybe he was like Spock : one of a kind.

But that day was not the day. Spock left, finally allowing a demon to drown his sins alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.


End file.
